


The Bottom Rung

by orphan_account



Series: All Shall Be Well [2]
Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:03:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach's life has a tendency to screw him over whenever possible, so when he finally gets his freedom back, he's hardly going to hold his breath in the anticipation of something good happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bottom Rung

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! It's been a while hasn't it? Well, I'm finally back with the second part to the series. This part is all in Zach's POV because, as I said, I couldn't leave him as a loose thread. Plus he is also crucial to helping Tom overcome other issues in his life. They do help each other in this story. They help each other overcome their common pasts of being sex slaves. 
> 
> Before we get started, a word of caution. Zach does not have the best mental state sometimes. Not too dark of thoughts, but it is there. Hinted at, really. Also, heed the tags. There's is a rape/attempted rape scene. I will mark it out like so: ***WARNING***. 
> 
> And yeah. This story is very much a story of healing as well as more world building for this modern slave universe. It expands on the aftermath of slavery for those who are not as fortunate as Tom.
> 
> The timeline for this story goes like this: Zach is released a short time before the final chapter of Price of Submission. He meets up with Tom sometime in the following fall.
> 
> I think that's all I've got to say now, so enjoy and let me know what you think.
> 
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

The thing about slavery is that it never truly ends. It has a beginning but no ending. It’s like the punishment continues on after the sentence has been served. Yeah, Zach was a little reckless in his youth, but he’s older now. He understands his mistakes and has paid for them (by God has he paid for them!). And now he wishes everything would return to normal—whatever normal is considered to be these days. But it’s never that simple.

He gets his cuff taken off, and some papers are signed the day he becomes a free man. He’s given a card with his name on it and some other stuff that basically declares him as a free man. He grips it tightly as they go over the release program with him. It’s totally up to him if he wishes to go through with the program; although, it’s highly suggested that he does.

The program will take in his skill level as well as give him housing to keep track of his progress. He’ll be assessed and eventually given a place to work whether it is some sort of municipal job like garbage collection or some other form of physical labour. However, he will not receive all the money he makes. About thirty percent of his paycheck will be used to help pay some bills and taxes that aren’t fully covered by government funding. It makes sense, and thirty percent shouldn’t make that much of a difference. They even say they’ll give him a ride to the house as well as more instructions when he settles in.

With no other option, Zach takes up the small bag that contains what’s left of his life and heads out with one of the housing employees. The house, when he gets there, is kind of like the slave center and an apartment building rolled into one. There’s a front reception area for the newcomers. That’s where Zach is booked in by a kind man named Chris.

Chris has a nametag on the front of his collared shirt. Chris Evans, it says. The man is kind with an easy smile. He welcomes Zach, shakes his hand, looks him in the eye. Zach is barely able to keep himself from shaking.

After checking him in, Chris gives him the tour of the house. There are two sides: one for the men and another for the women. The bathrooms are communal. Each floor has a kitchen so they can cook their own meals. There are weekly grocery trips on Friday nights. There’s a bus that takes them, Chris says. Local shopping. The employees will help them budget and the first few grocery trips if they have no money. The last thing Chris mentions about the layout is the laundry room located on the ground floor.

That’s another thing Chris talks about: the work program. In two days they’ll have a job set up for him, and he’ll head out in the morning with the rest of them. The work program takes in accounts of their schooling and training as well so that someday they can attain a job they want.

Before they assess Zach, they show him to his room. It’s like a dorm room. It has a single bed, a window, a desk, and a small closet for his clothes. There’s a set of bed sheets and towels there for him. Chris leaves him for a bit so he can get settled and orient himself.

Zach sets his bag on the bed and goes to look out the window. He can open and close it. There are no bars. Nothing keeping him locked in. He honestly doesn’t know what he expected. But he appreciates the fact that he isn’t treated like a prisoner in reform. He’s a free man who needs a little help to get back on his feet.

After settling in, Chris takes him down to the main floor to start his assessment. There’s a form for him to fill out. They’ll be helping him set up a bank account and get some of his affairs in order. Apparently the banks freeze slaves’ assets until they’re released. Zach had a bank account when he was teen, but things got difficult in his late teens and twenties, and he doesn’t know anything about the current state of his bank account now. He’s just considering this whole place as a fresh start.

“So, next I have to ask about any secondary education you might’ve had,” Chris says. “Any schooling? Any degrees?”

Zach doesn’t notice how his fingernails are digging into his palms until his fingers begin to ache.

“Ummm. I didn’t . . . I didn’t go to college. I never—never had, um, got any degrees.”

Hell, he barely made it through high school.

“That’s fine,” Chris says.

The rest of the assessment/interview/whatever isn’t all that exciting. Zach has absolutely nothing to his name. He’s basically starting from scratch. At least he has a roof over his head and a job lined up for him. He’d be screwed on his own.

Afterwards, there’s nothing to do until dinner time. The meals are made communally, but the people who live here can buy whatever they want for themselves. They have labelled shelves and space in the kitchen where they can keep their stuff. He’s expected to lend a hand in cleaning the kitchen (as well as the bathroom; there’s a schedule set up in both places).

Chris hands Zach a key after they finish up. It’s for his room. It’s for his privacy. It’s his. Zach clutches onto it until he’s sure there’s an imprint in his palm. There’s a communal lounge room with books and puzzle and a small TV in the corner.

Overall, the rest of the day is quiet and relaxed. People start drifting in after three, four, five. Dinner is made for six. Zach stays out of the way of pretty much everyone. Chris makes sure Zach is all and comfortable with all his floor mates. He tells Zach that his shift ends at seven, so if he needs anything, he should ask now. Zach says he’s fine, and Chris says he’ll be back tomorrow in the early afternoon.

So Zach is left alone that night. He keeps to himself. He goes to bed early, using the free toiletries they gave him. He wraps himself up in his blankets and tries to settle down for the night. Over the years he’s become used to frequent changes in his settings. Sleeping in a weird house has become the norm. His first night in his owner’s house was a nightmare. He couldn’t sleep, kept waking at every sound. He eventually became accustomed to everything odd and unusual. Now that he’s free he feels like he’ll return to the sleepless nights.  It’ll be odd waking up and realizing that he has no cuff and that he’s able to lock his door.

He just hopes that adjusting to free life won’t be as hard as adjusting to slavery.

* * *

Chris informs him the next day that he’ll be working in a mailroom. He’ll be starting at nine, heading out with some others that work in the same place as him. He’ll work nine to five during the week, having weekends off for himself.

A mailroom shouldn’t be too hard to work in. The employees give him some food for his lunch as grocery day is still two days away. He has the support he needs to get through this, so it’s with little hesitation that he heads out the next morning with everyone else.

It’s a bus that takes them to work. It makes a few stops on the way for some of the others to get off and go to work. And then Zach heads off with the others he works with.

On the premises, Zach is greeted by his foreman. He welcomes Zach and gives him a short tour of the place. Here in the basement they sort the mail according to the floors they are needed for. Then they take the packages up to those floors and deliver them to the right people. The foreman says Zach will be helping deliver the packages later in the day. For now he’s going to pair Zach up with someone else to show him the ropes.

Zach tries to do his best. He has to read the label and match it with the floor number. The mail eventually gets piled into carts and will be delivered in the afternoon.

The lunchroom is where they sit and eat on their breaks. There’s a stack of local newspapers on the tables for them. Zach hunches in on himself and keeps his back to the wall.

It’s odd being back in a proper work environment. For the past six years, he’s been mostly kept in a house: looking after kids, cooking, cleaning, house chores. And the other thing. He doesn’t like bringing that part up.

The monotony of sorting packages comes to a halt when Zach is asked to help out with the delivery. He’s paired up with another worker and asked to push around the cart while they go on their rounds through the floors.

They take the elevator up, up, up into the building. The doors open, and Zach follow the other man out of the elevator and into the hall. There are a few people on the floor. Not many. It must be lunch time for these people then.

Zach dutifully pushes the cart, and they deliver the packages. There’s no fuss or any problems. It’s easy, and soon enough they’re back in the basement. Job complete.

Then they move onto the next floor and continue the pattern.

* * *

Zach is exhausted by the end of the day. He’s barely able to keep his eyes open on the bus ride home. He heads up to his room, unlocks the door, and burrows under his bed covers. God, who knew a real job could be so exhausting?

He sleeps until there’s a knock on the door. He waits until there’s a second knock and forces himself out of bed. He opens the door and finds Chris.

“Hey!” Chris says, open smile, easy posture. “How’d it go?”

“It went well,” Zach says. It did. It went by well enough. It’ll take some getting used to, this new setting and routine, but Zach is confident that he’ll be able to hold onto this job and get himself back on his feet. He has a great support system here. But there’s this feeling in the back of his mind that things are going to come crumbling down.

* * *

In high school he was always angry. He got into fights, got called to the principal’s office, detention. There was nothing wrong at home that caused him to be like this. Both parents were loving and together. They wanted to know, to understand, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what was wrong with himself.

Going into grade eleven, he found a solution for his anger. It started under the bleachers on the soccer field. He wasn’t pressured. He was persuaded. He wanted a way out, and he was offered one.

Life got a bit easier after that. It calmed him, made everything seem light. He didn’t care anymore. For the first time in his life, he felt okay with himself, being in his body. But it didn’t stop there; it would never stop there.

He barely passed exams. His parents didn’t understand his withdrawal. So he left. He cut all ties, dropped his last name, and, for all intents purposes, disappeared. He felt free then. He felt like he could go anywhere. So with what money he had, he left familiar surroundings and went in search of something new.

The first few months were great. He was introduced to a new life. It was exciting. He got to experience new things, meet new people, and get what he thought was the most out of life.

And then the money began to dwindle, and he had to find a means of employment to support his habit. Never once did he consider what he was doing. Never once did he ever think about what he life had boiled down to: clean needles and the next high. There was the typical anxiety whenever he was suffering from withdrawal, but it wasn’t something he regretted until later. This was all he needed in life.

Until it came crashing down, and he was busted for wheeling and dealing.

Six years, they said. Six years of your life that you owe us.

Suffering from withdrawal at the local jail was the worst. They were keeping him until the drugs were out of his system. It was terrifying those initial weeks. He received no sympathy there. The guards only watched over his condition to make sure he didn’t need to be hospitalized. After he could stand and the shakes were gone, they shipped him over to the slave center, and suddenly he found himself in a world of trouble that he never imagined would happen to him.

As Zach would figure out later, life had a tendency to screw him over.

* * *

Zach goes to work every morning. He eats lunch with the others in the lunch room. He sorts envelopes and packages. He delivers them after lunch. Then he goes home.

Friday nights are reserved for grocery trips. All of them are taken on a bus and driven to a nearby grocery store. There they get out, get their carts and their baskets, and get the food that they need. On the weekends, if they aren’t required to work, they can do whatever they want. Some do shopping for other items like clothes and things for entertainment. Others go out with friends. All of them adjust to the sensation of being free. All except Zach.

Zach sleeps. He stays in his room until his bladder or stomach forces him out. Sometimes he’ll brave the lounge to see what’s on the TV or entertain himself with a puzzle book or a novel. It’s a weird feeling. This place is meant to help him transition from a life of servitude to a life of free choices. Zach has to figure out what to do on his own without someone telling him. It’s hard. He thought it would be easier, but he has nothing to look forward to. He has no life to go back like the others.

So he begins to treat this start-from-scratch life like his enslavement: one day at a time. At least now he has choices and a sense of entitlement again. Finding his place in the world and forming his own identity is certainly going to take some time.

* * *

As the weeks add up to months, it creeps up on him. Zach doesn’t notice it at first, but eventually he starts to feel heavy. He wakes up with sore muscles despite the fact that his job is hardly labour intensive. He finds out he’s clenching his jaw whenever the foreman talks to him or he made a small mistake in sorting. It was only a mistake. Common. Human. But Zach felt his stomach plummet. His heart skipped a beat. Mistakes like those were unthinkable when he was a slave. He never got punished, but he felt extremely depressed whenever he disappointed his owners. Even now he felt sick.

The feeling of inadequacy settles in over his shoulders and upper back. He always sits hunched in on himself, shoulders drawn up. He’s always tense, always expecting something that he can’t name. It comes a point where he crashes. The stress becomes too much, and the anxiety overwhelms him.

One day he doesn’t get up to go to work with the others. He can’t find the drive to get himself out of bed in the morning, so he just stays under the covers and sleeps until noon. After that he gets up, moves to the kitchen to get some food, and promptly shuffles back to his room where he can curl up and sleep some more.

He doesn’t know why he’s so damn tired.

Because he missed a work day, one of the counsellors comes by to see him during down time. Chris takes the chair from the small desk in Zach’s room and sits by his bed. His body language is relaxed, but Zach is wary enough. Even though he’s free and supposedly safe, old habits die hard. He remains tense and can’t stop looking towards the door. Chris notices and gets up to open the door a little.

“Heard you missed work today, Zach,” he says softly, sitting back down again and bracing his arms on his legs so he bend down a little. Zach has noticed this practice. The employees here, when having one-on-one conversations, always bend down a little so they don’t intimidate the men and women that live here.

Zach shrugs in response.

“Do you feel well? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“No. I’m—I’m fine. It’s just . . .” He shrugs again. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want us to find you a different work place?”

Zach shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Chris looks down at the floor before looking back up. “We have counsellors here you can talk to. Different programs.”

“I’m fine.” The last thing Zach wants to talk to is other people with a sympathetic ear. Where were they when he actually needed them?

But Chris just nods, not pressing the issue. “I hope you know that we do have a policy here, Zach. You have to stick to your schedule. If you don’t go to work, then we can’t let you stay here. That’s the deal we have set up in your papers.”

Right. Those papers Zach was supposed to read but didn’t.

“If you don’t go back into work, I’m afraid we can’t let you stay. Understand?”

Zach nods, and Chris leaves the room.

* * *

Zach doesn’t go into work tomorrow either. Chris visits him. They have a one sided chat again. Zach is given another chance, but can’t get himself out of bed. So before Chris can make an appearance again the next day, Zach packs his things, takes some food and water from the communal kitchen, and walks out of the halfway house. He commends the people working there for trying. It’s certainly not an easy job, but it’s not for Zach. He feels overwhelmed. He needs a moment just to breathe and realize that he’s free. But he doesn’t feel like it.

That’s the first night he sleeps on the street and certainly not the last. He keeps his bag in front of him as he sleeps, arms wrapped around it so it isn’t stolen. He’s still a light sleeper, so as soon as someone passes him, he wakes up.

For the next few days, he wanders the streets, trying to remember what it is to be free again.

He has his first panic attack when he enters a crowded store to use their bathroom. He makes it to the bathroom to catch his breath in a stall where he tucks himself between the toilet and the wall so he can try to breathe and relax.

When he accidentally bumps into someone on the street, he feels like he’s been dipped in ice. He apologizes profusely and probably scares away the poor woman with the way he reacts. He decides that avoiding all human contact in the future is the best way to avoid any unpleasantness or panic attacks.

The money he has in his bank account is enough to last him food wise. It’s not enough to get him an apartment or any place to stay for long term. So in the meantime he’s homeless. He sleeps where he can without getting called out for it by a storeowner or a cop. He does eventually discover the soup kitchen and shelter. If he doesn’t get there early enough, the beds are usually all filled up. He gets free meals three times a week, though. So that’s a bonus.

Other than that, Zach is looking out for himself. He wanders the streets during the day time, trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do now. He gave up the halfway house and a job for this. Really gives you insight as to how poor Zach’s decision making processes really are.

* * *

Like always, it boils down to money. Zach needs money, or he’ll starve. And he can’t go back to the halfway house. He just can’t. He left it because he didn’t want to see Chris all disappointed in him. That he didn’t even try to reach out for the help that he so obviously needed.

He’s a coward. He knows that. Which is why he finds it so difficult to live with himself sometimes. His general disinterest towards life frustrates him to no ends. He doesn’t know why he is this way, but he wants it to stop. The only problem he has is he doesn’t know how.

* * *

When the money problem begins to get real, Zach has to make a decision: how is he going to support himself? He doesn’t think he’ll be able to work in any normal environment. He can’t deal with people. And he’s too far from any agricultural jobs, so that’s out. Which means he has to rely on one of the oldest professions out there.

The only thing he has of value is his body. He’s in relatively good shape, if a bit thin. He knows from the past is that he’s pleasing to the eye. People do want to fuck him; he just has to find them.

It takes him a bit to find that spot where the streetwalkers work. Friday and Saturday nights are when they usually come out in a good number. Zach decides to head out on these nights to try his luck.

He stands at a street corner. It’s dark and quiet, very few cars on the street. He leans against a lamppost and assumes a more provocative pose. He pulls off his jacket and sticks it into his bag. His shirt is worn and old, so it’s thin. He pulls his pants down a little so they sit lower on his hips. Then he leans against the lamppost with his bag tucked behind his legs. And now he waits.

He waits for thirty minutes. A car drives by slowly: dark windows, a shadowy intent. It stops by him. The passenger’s side window rolls down. A man leans across the seat and smiles at him. “Need a ride?”

Zach doesn’t hesitate and picks up his bag and slides into the car. His heart is beating wildly in his chest as the man puts the car into drive. This isn’t the ideal solution to a problem, but it’s better than the alternative.

* * *

The weeks run on, and he returns to his familiar spot. Not a lot of other prostitutes come to this street, so it’s just him for the most part. He’s been picked up by a few men from this spot, one of who can be considered a regular. The money is enough to keep him fed but not enough to get a place to sleep. Although, sometimes the men who pick him up pay for the night of the motel room they use so he has a warm place to sleep for the night. Also he has the use of a small shower which is also very convenient.

He could always be found at the lamp post. That became his spot. His customers certainly know where to find him if they want company for the night. His only regular, Richard Powell, picks him up every Friday night (or every other) around eleven. He always takes him to a nicer hotel than the others or instead of fucking him in the backseat of their car.

Richard is years older than Zach. Probably somewhere in his fifties. He’s also super wealthy, so the money that Zach gets lasts him a while. But he has to work for it. And it’s not easy money.

Richard is still fit at his age, and he likes to dominate in bed. He can be rough sometimes. He always takes his time to prepare Zach, makes sure he’s sufficiently lubed and stretched. He always wears a condom. Even with all of this preparation, Zach still comes out with bruises and aches. Richard has a surprisingly harsh grip and seems to forget how strong he can be even at his age.

He likes to take Zach on his hands and knees most nights. After they’re done, Richard goes off into the bathroom to clean up while Zach lies on the bed. Richard never stays long. He cleans up, dresses himself, and leaves Zach the money before he’s out the door with the promise of, “See you next week.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Zach says breathlessly, waving at him from the bed. The door closes, and Zach snuggles down under the bed covers. He’ll clean up tomorrow morning. Right now he’ll sleep and think about what he’ll do with the money he has. He could probably save up and find himself a cheap apartment. If he can keep this deal with Richard going for a while, he can support himself and hopefully find a job.

It sounds like a feasible plan. It’s just going to take a while to get there.

* * *

Life goes on. Zach roams the streets by day, dipping into his meager savings to buy food and pay for other small things. At night he wanders, looking for a safe place to sleep, or possibly picking up another customer if he feels so inclined. Richard’s money gets him through the week. He tries to use as little money as possible. His dream of sleeping in his own apartment one day is worth the worn shoes and empty stomach.

Friday nights he tries to get himself presentable. He makes sure he has a decent meal beforehand and tries to make himself look less homeless in a public bathroom. Usually he has the time to shower in the hotel before they get on with the agenda. But he at least wants to appear less bedraggled and not damage the expensive material of Richard’s car seats. Richard never seems to care, though. He simply takes him to a nice hotel and fucks him into the mattress.

Sometimes Richard says things in the heat of the moment that make Zach’s stomach tighten.

“If I had it my way,” he says, thrusting slowly, just barely brushing Zach’s prostate, “I’d bring you home. Keep you as my boy. Get you nice gifts. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Zach’s response is a drawn out moan. He wouldn’t mind if Richard took him home. It’d be nice to have a roof over his head and free meals. He could play that act again, be the sex toy that people want him to be. It wouldn’t be hard to get back into that frame of mind, but is that what he really wants? Does he really want to depend on someone else for support?

After Richard leaves for the night, Zach is left with some serious questions he needs to answer. If he wants to get his own place, he needs to pick up more work.

* * *

***WARNING***

He tries to pick someone up every other night, giving himself a full day to recover before heading out again. Wednesday night he’s out again, prowling the street, looking for a hook up. It’s late at night by the time he gets picked up. Past midnight, he assumes.

It’s meant to be just a simple blowjob, but the guy clearly wants some space, because he goes and rents a motel room. One of those forty dollars a night type of deal with a saggy mattress, musty curtains, and stained walls. Zach goes straight to work

The guy isn’t that all great to work with. He’s probably a smoker and a drinker judging from the smell of his clothes and that he has a bit of a belly. His body is coarse and dark, but whatever. Zach has to eat somehow.

Then the guy tells Zach to stop, and he assumes his client wants to come all over his face. But that isn’t the case. He asks, well, commands Zach to strip and get on the bed. Okay. Weird but so long as he gets paid—all right.

The man bears down on him, and Zach knows this wasn’t part of the deal. And the guy doesn’t seem like he’ll be gentle.

And it’s the principle of the thing. Zach’s word should mean something now. He can say no to this. So he does.

“This wasn’t part of the deal,” he says.

“Oh, shut up. I know what little faggots like you need.”

And that’s wrong. Zach tires to push the guy off, but he’s in this cramped position and the guy is heavy. He gets a sharp slap to the face for his struggles. Hands wrap around his throat and cut off his air to near strangling. Then the guy is shoving in, and Zach’s not prepped and dry and it hurts. It really hurts. And fuck.

He has to get this guy off.

So instead of trying to get the hands off his throat, he swings hi arm back and rakes his nails across the man’s face. It’s enough to get the man off and out of him.

Zach coughs and doesn’t have enough time to stop the guy from punching him the face. Twice.

He’s dazed and doesn’t think he’s able to hold off the guy if he tries again. But he doesn’t have to, thank God, because the guy doesn’t seem interested in another attempt. He gets his pants back on and leaves the room.

Zach is left panting and wheezing on the middle of the bed. Fuck. He hurts. He wonders if he’s bleeding. He’ll have to check.

He makes it to the bathroom and checks himself out in the mirror. Split lip, swollen eye, bruising on the cheekbone. Christ. There are marks around his throat. There is a bit of blood between his legs, but the damage isn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

He wishes to take a bath to soothe his aches, but the room only comes equipped with a shower stall, so he makes do with it.

After washing the scent of the guy off of his skin, he dresses and prepares to leave. He can’t stay here tonight. The guy might come back. So Zach leaves, noting that he wasn’t paid but didn’t expect to after that incident.

He’s a far ways out of the city, so it’s a long walk back to the city, and he’s exhausted by the time he reaches the city limit. The sun won’t be up for a few hours, but he doubts that he’ll be able to sleep. So he doesn’t.

* * *

He meets up with Richard two nights later as per their custom. He gets in the car and doesn’t face the man, doesn’t greet him. His face is still largely bruised. Dark. Ugly.

“What happened?” Richard asks, reaching out to turn Zach’s face.

Zach jerks his head away.

“Let me see it.”

He lets Richard take a look at the bruise.

“What happened?” he asks again. “Tell me.”

“Job gone wrong,” Zach replies. “It’s fine. Let’s just do this.”

Richard nods and puts his car into gear, driving them away from the grimy streets.

Zach is surprised when Richard doesn’t take them to a ritzy hotel but rather a building full of condominiums. He doesn’t question, but follows Richard into the building, to the elevator, and to a door to which Richard holds the key.

It’s Richard home. His condo, to be precise.

“I’ll order in,” Richard says, heading towards the kitchen area. “Why don’t you go wash up?”

Zach heads for the bathroom and does exactly as he’s told. He takes time in the shower, standing under the showerhead that is almost uncomfortable from the temperature of the water. He comes out with his skin tinted red and pink. He avoids looking at himself in the mirror. But he should shave. So he does, wincing a bit, and tries to ignore the face in the mirror.

When he comes out, there’s food set out in the kitchen. Richard ordered take out. Thai food from the looks of it.

“Take what you want,” Richard says from the living room. “There’s plenty to go around.”

Zach stays in the kitchen and eats, hunched over his plate and quickly. The food is good, something he hasn’t had the pleasure of tasting in years. He eats until he’s full and drinks what he can find in the fridge.

He joins Richard in the living room and sits away from him. He’s tired and doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay awake for Richard tonight, but it seems that Richard did not bring him here for sex.

“You can stay here tonight if you want,” Richard says. “We can make up the couch for you.”

“Thanks,” Zach says. “Do you want—?”

“I didn’t bring you here for sex,” Richard says. “I thought you might want a safe place to sleep tonight.”

That’s true. Zach does need a safe place to sleep, and it’s very considerate. He doesn’t argue and lies down, curled up on his side.

There are no more words between them that night. Richard finds a spare pillow and blanket for him. They make up the couch for a bed, and Zach is asleep before Richard heads in for the night. He’s grateful for the care he receives. He knows he’s lucky to have Richard as a client who isn’t in it just for the sex. Zach doesn’t know what the man sees in him. Hopefully something more than a pity case.

The next morning he wakes up to Richard setting a plate of food on the coffee table. He sits up then, reaching for the cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

Richard turns on the TV for the news. The volume is on low. Zach eats what’s before him. The coffee is good, just sweet enough without any worries for cavities.

“Did you ever think this is what your life would come to, Zach?” Richard asks.

Zach shrugs, savouring the last sips of his coffee. “It is what it is.”

“Is this really what you want?”

Zach feels like he knows where this conversation is going. “I don’t think it’s what anyone ever wants.”

“Zach, listen. You can’t keep doing this. I won’t always be around to give you some help every now and then. And I don’t want to read about some kid finding a body in a dumpster in the paper. You deserve more than this in life, Zach.”

“How do you know?” Zach asks. “You don’t know anything about me. I could’ve done bad stuff before I was a slave. Maybe this is all karma. I _deserve_ this.”

Richard looks at him, and his eyes soften, for he shakes his head. “I don’t believe that. I don’t know what you’ve done in your past, but no one deserves this. You’re too harsh on yourself, Zach. You deserve better.”

Zach wants to believe this, but life never worked out that way for him. He can’t dare to hope because he _knows_ it will never happen.

Richard just nods his head, whether in defeat or acceptance that Zach isn’t going to respond Zach doesn’t know. “I have a few errands to run today,” he says. “Shouldn’t take long. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want.”

“Thanks.”

After Richard leaves, Zach takes advantage of having the flat to himself. He showers, standing under the showerhead longer than necessary. He eats a second breakfast, because why not. It’s highly unlikely that he’ll ever have the chance of staying here for the better part of a day. And Richard doesn’t seem like the guy who’d get upset if half of the contents of his fridge were suddenly gone.

Zach soaks up the time he has at Richard’s. He knows he can’t stay here forever. That’s not the point. He wants to be able to support himself, and he knows Richard is right when he can’t be selling his body forever. He’s either going to get hurt or his customers will lose interest in him and go for someone younger. The money will dry up, and he’ll be screwed over even more.

But he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t get a job on his own, for who would ever hire him? He can’t go back to the half-way house. He doesn’t even know if they’ll take him back.

So he’s fucked is what his ruminations come down to. If he’s ever going to turn his life around, he actually has to give a shit for once. If he just tried for once in his goddamned life, maybe he could actually succeed. Maybe he could become something better.

* * *

He stays one more night at Richard’s because the man offered and Zach needs all the feeding up he can get. He sneaks through the pantry when he can, taking items like snack bars and fruit cups, something that doesn’t require fire to eat. Richard gives him some money, and Zach goes down on him without any prompting. It’s the least he can do, and there are no complaints coming from either end.

Zach sleeps once more on the couch and is gone before Richard gets up. He leaves a note, thanking Richard for all that he has done. It’s meant to be a final goodbye. Zach doesn’t plan on seeing Richard again unless if he absolutely has to, or they meet while bumping into each other on the street and Zach’s place in life has dramatically improved.

For the next few days, Zach struggles. It’s tempting not to go out on the street and look for a client. It’s not honest money, but it’s money nonetheless. He needs to find another means of employment and fast.

It takes a while until Zach finds something he thinks he can work with. One day he wanders into a quiet neighbourhood. He spends a lot of his time walking. Anything to keep him busy.

So as he walks down this quiet place, he comes upon a guitar case. He used to play guitar as a hobby, years ago. He looks around and takes a peek on the inside. There is a guitar inside. He doesn’t know why the guitar is sitting out here, but he’s taking it. He doesn’t care if it’s theft, but this could work for him.

He takes the case and quickly leaves the neighbourhood, trying not to look suspicious. He heads back into the center of the city where the soup kitchen and the shelter is. He depends upon these two places more often now. He gets his three free meals a week and makes sure he heads to the shelter earlier in the evening to make sure he’s guaranteed a bed. This is where he spends most of his time now, sitting in peace and privacy so he can relearn how to play the guitar.

It takes a while. He’s rusty. He’s so rusty that if he was a car, the engine would fall out with a single kick. But he remembers his chords, the feel of the strings beneath his fingertips. The guitar came with a pic, which is a blessing to his fingers. It takes a while to build up the callouses he needs so his fingers won’t bleed anymore. The ache is a nuisance, but it’s a familiar ache. It’s a good ache that he doesn’t mind waking up with.

He plays familiar chords to famous songs: _Stairway to Heaven, Back in Black, Here Comes the Sun._ All classics that he grew up with. He picks up more songs as he goes along. He has to have something to play with if he’s going to try and make money.

When he feels confident enough that his playing—and singing—has improved enough, he takes it to the street. He starts in the busier parts of town. It’s terrifying, at first. There are a lot of people around during the time he decides to make his debut. He smothers the fear as best he can and grips his guitar tightly.

For his first gig, he makes fifteen bucks in scattered change. It’s enough to support him for two days. Three if he stretches. He’s dead tired by night time, and sleeps well in the shelter.

The money is nowhere near as good as before. Sometimes he barely makes anything. Depends on where he sets himself up as he likes to mix it up a bit. But the money he gets is safer than compared to his other line of work. He doesn’t have to worry about STIs or having someone take advantage of him. This way he can actually sustain himself. There’s no way he’ll be able to afford an apartment on these earnings. But he can feed himself. Small victories.

The only thing that’s going to get him where he wants to be is a miracle.

* * *

Three weeks have passed since his night with Richard. He hasn’t gone back to his usual spot and suffers more hungry stomachs than he likes to think about. For now he’s been on the streets for six months. Fall is closing in, and winter will soon be upon him. He needs to save up money for winter clothing. There’s always a donation box at the shelter, but most of it is usually too small for him. He tries not to think about the future too often. He focuses on his music instead so he won’t starve.

He’s standing on one of his highest paying street corners one afternoon. One man stands before him as he finishes the set. A twenty dollar bill is dropped down in the guitar case. That’ll get him some nice food for tonight. He plucks the last strings and sets the guitar aside, intending on packing up his stuff so that he can count up the money he’s made and buy something hot and preferably filling.

The man is still standing there when he gets his guitar put away. He looks familiar. Curly hair, sharp face, blue eyes. “Tom?” he says carefully, because he doesn’t want to make a fool of himself.

The man smiles. “I thought it was you.” Tom steps forward and wraps Zach up in a hug. Zach, at first stunned by the action, is stiff from the contact. He lets Tom hang onto him for a moment before they break apart and taking a step back. While he’s trying to turn his life around, human contact he avoids like the plague.

“How have you been?” Tom asks. “It’s been like, what? Three years?”

Zach takes another step back closer to the wall of the building behind him. “About, I guess.” Three _very_ long years.

“Hey, want to go grab a coffee real quick?” Tom asks. “I just got off my shift and if you aren’t busy. . . .”

“No. Not busy at all. Just, um. Yeah. Sure. Coffee sounds great.”

He has no intentions of buying coffee. He can’t afford it. But it is nice to sit inside and just sit down for a while. But he probably smells, so while Tom is getting his drink, Zach finds a few seats as far away from everyone else as possible.

“Are you getting anything?” Tom asks as he returns and sets his drink on the table.

Zach shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he says.

Tom smiles softly. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m good.” He doesn’t want to owe Tom. Owing people is the last thing he wants to do.

“You sure?”

Zach nods. He’ll pick something up later when he finds a safe place to hole up in.

Tom sits down. “So what have you been up to recently?”

Zach hasn’t had a conversation like this since Richard. Even then the older man seemed to pick up on Zach’s reluctance to join in on conversation. So Zach bristles a bit and tries to think of an answer.

“Oh, not too much. Just getting by.”

Nice. Vague. That ought to work.

Tom smiles, but it’s one of those pity smiles. The soft pull of the lips at the corners, those sympathetic eyes and that just screamed _I know you’re not telling me something._ Zach can’t look for long, so he looks away. It’s not like he and Tom know each other that well. They knew each other as sex slaves, pets to their owners. Zach put on a front for both their sakes.

But Zach doesn’t give Tom the chance to reply. He gets the topic away from himself.

“What about you? What have you been up to?”

“Work mostly,” Tom says. “Well, that and looking after the kids. My days are usually pretty full.”

Wait. Kids? Tom has kids?

“I’m glad things are working out for you then,” Zach says. It comes out a little more bitter than he meant it. He really is glad Tom is okay and safe with a job and family.

“Yeah,” Tom says. “I never thought I’d end up where I am today.”

Zach offers him a smile. “I feel you.”

“I got lucky,” Tom says, slowly turning his coffee cup on the table. “I got really lucky, in fact.” He stops turning his cup and sets one of his hands down towards Zach.

Zach doesn’t know what Tom is trying to do here. What is he doing?  Why is he trying to be civil towards Zach? They know nothing about each other. Nothing that’s real anyway.

Zach sits back in his seat. Tom probably knows that he’s living on the street. He’s not exactly dressed to impress at the moment.

“Zach,” Tom says. “Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?”

“Yeah.” It’s not a lie. It might not be a reliable solution, but the shelter does provide shelter.

Tom wears that same knowing smile. “Zach—”

“What?”

“You don’t have to be like this around me. If you don’t have a place to stay, you can admit it to me. I can help.”

The problem Zach has is that he’s trying not to depend on other people for support. He’s trying to make it on his own. But this is a man he knows who’s offering a place to stay. How long he can stay is unknown, but if he can get a shower out of this deal, he’ll consider it a plus.

But of course Zach doesn’t take Tom up on his offer right away. Years of making bad choices has left him with a seriously poor decision making process.                                                                                                                                                  

“You don’t just take ex-slaves in like strays, Tom,” he says. “It doesn’t work that way.”

Tom’s face suddenly becomes this very serious mask of determination. “It did for me. Well, sort of. What’s saying it won’t work with you?”

“I’m not worth it,” Zach says. “You don’t need to do this for me and ruin what you have now.”

But Tom shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Everything’s going to be fine.”

* * *

Zach follows Tom in the end. Tom pays for his bus fare, and they ride together to the neighbourhood that Tom lives in. It’s a short walk from the bus stop to the house, which is one of those new and large suburban houses.

“Chris and Elsa shouldn’t mind,” Tom says on the walk there.

“Are they the—?”

“Yeah. They actually used to be my owners before I was freed.”

“Wait. Really?”

Tom nods. “I know it’s a bit unexpected. Usually slaves want to get away from their owners once they get their freedom, right? Well, my owners didn’t buy me. Chris was injured in a car crash and his insurance sent me to help out around the house. At first they didn’t really want to keep me. I was only meant to stay for a few weeks, but they ended up buying me. I spent the rest of my sentence with them, and one thing led to another, and now I live with them.”

“How did you manage that?”

Tom blushes and looks away. “I don’t think we expected to fall in love.”

“Oh.”

Tom leads him up into the house. “They might be home,” he says, opening the door and waving Zach inside. But no one greets them at the door, so Tom says, “Or they might be out in the backyard. Let me check.”

Zach stands awkwardly at the door, backpack over one shoulder with the guitar case sitting at his side. He doesn’t move from the front door just yet. If the people of the house don’t want him here, he’ll leave and save himself from the embarrassment of a face-to-face confrontation.

Eventually, Tom returns, smiling. “You can take off your shoes if you’d like. Chris and Elsa are fine with you staying.”

Chris and Elsa. Husband and wife, Zach guesses. The ones with the kids Tom mentioned earlier.

Zach takes off his shoes, and Tom puts them away on the mat. He then takes Zach into the kitchen, to the island that’s there where a pair of barstools sits.

“Take a seat,” Tom says, heading towards one of the drawers and pulling out two glasses. “Is there anything you’d like to drink or eat?”

Zach looks out the deck door as he sits down. “Water’s fine,” he says. He can see the family from here. He can see the parents. The dad, Chris, is a large man: tall, well built. The mom, Elsa, is sitting on the ground surrounded by two boys. She has blonde hair, cut short. Her smiling is absolutely dazzling. There’s a young girl near Chris’s legs. Three kids they have.

Zach then looks to Tom. How does he fit into this family? How does that work? He has a lot of questions, none of which are appropriate for now.

“Here you are.” Tom sets a glass in front of him. “Anything to eat? I’m sure we’ve got some leftovers here from last night. It’s just lasagna and salad for us tonight.”

Tom rummages around in the fridge and pulls out a few containers full of last night’s leftovers. He sets it all on a plate and puts it in the microwave. Zach sits quietly at the island and takes careful sips from his water. The microwave beeps, and Tom takes out a fork before setting it all before Zach. Zach picks up the fork. There’s roasted potatoes, a piece of pork, and leftover vegetables. He picks up the knife and fork and eats. He eats slowly because he wants to enjoy it and doesn’t want to have a gut ache later. Tom takes the stool next to him. They say nothing, for that Zach is thankful.

Before the family can come in, Tom leads Zach upstairs to the spare bedroom. It’s nice. Big enough to hold him with a big bed for comfort. He sets down his bag and guitar case.

“I think we’re going to have dinner soon,” Tom says. “I can show you the bathroom if you want to take a shower.”

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

Tom shows him to the bathroom and how to work the shower. He hands him a set of towels and promises to come back up and check on him after dinner.

Tom leaves and shuts the door. Zach takes off his clothes and waits for the water to heat up before stepping in. Tom had set out some body wash and shampoo for him. Zach took his time washing the smell of the street off of his skin. He used liberal amounts of both products because he could and doubted that Tom would get angry at him for using up all his products.

He steps out of the shower and finds a pile of clean clothes stacked on the bathroom counter. Tom must’ve slipped in and dropped them off because his clothes are gone. Zach dries and dresses and walks back into the spare bedroom. He shuts the door and goes to lie on the bed. He finds that his backpack has been opened and his dirty clothes removed. Tom must’ve done that as well, going to wash Zach’s clothes for him. Zach should be annoyed by someone going through his stuff, but he’s too tired for that. Right now he just wants to sleep. So he does.

* * *

Tap tap tap.

“Zach? It’s me. Tom.”

Tap tap tap.

Zach is slow to wake. He pushes himself up on the bed and goes to the door. Tom is on the other side with a laundry basket. Zach’s clothes are all clean and neatly folded. Just how long was he asleep for?

“Oh, thanks for the . . .” Zach points to the laundry basket and Tom smiles. “It was my pleasure,” he says.

The basket is set down, and Zach nudges it further into the room. “Do you know what time it is?” he asks.

“A little before eight,” Tom replies.

“Oh, wow.” Zach rubs his face. Three hours of sleep. He never realized how tried he truly was.

“Yeah. I came up earlier,” Tom says, “but you were out for the count, so I left you alone for a bit. The kids have been put down to bed, and there’s some food leftover for supper if you want to come down and having something more to eat.”

Zach nods. He could do with some more food.

Tom takes him to the kitchen, and they share another silent moment together. Zach has a lot questions running through his head, and then there’s the fact that he has yet to meet the homeowners. He feels it like it’s an ax hanging over his head. He doesn’t know if they’re begrudgingly letting him stay here because of Tom, or if they actually want to give him a bit of help.

“So,” Zach says, finishing up the last remains of his meal. “Where do you, uh, sleep?”

“Downstairs,” Tom says. “There was another room set up down there before we moved here, and I decided being downstairs would be better for me so I could have my own private space.”

Zach nods. That’s nice. It’s nice to know that Tom has ended up in such a nice area. But this Tom is different from the one Zach knew. That Tom was a loyal sex slave to his master, and looked at his master like he was his entire world (which probably wasn’t too far off from the truth). This Tom has confidence. His face is open with expression that isn’t coerced or faked. Zach knows he shouldn’t feel resentful or bitter towards Tom for his good fortune, but sometimes he can’t help it, because he’s had such a hard time with everything and other people sometimes just have things handed to them.

Two others enter the kitchen: the wife and the husband. Now Zach can get a look at them. Elsa is a petite woman next to her large man of a husband Chris.

“You must be Zach,” Elsa says, coming forward to greet Zach properly and shake his hand. “I’m Elsa.”

“And I’m Chris.” Chris smiles and shakes Zach’s hand in a firm but not tight grip. “Nice to meet you.”

Zach withdraws his hand and sets it in his lap. “Nice to meet you as well. Thank you for allowing me to stay.”

“It’s fine,” Chris says. “You can stay for as long as you like.”

Zach sighs internally. At least now he knows they don’t mind his presence. That’s one less thing he has to worry about.

* * *

Now that Zach has been accepted into the Hemsworth household, he can try and figure out where to go from here. He goes to bed soon after his meeting with the Hemsworths and sleeps again. He’s tired, and the bed is the best thing he’s experienced in weeks. But the habits he’s built up from his months on the street kick in sometime after midnight.

The furnace kicks on. Zach wakes up with it, panicking at first because he doesn’t remember where he is at first. When the panic recedes, Zach turns onto his side and tries to sleep again.

An hour passes.

Then two.

He can’t sleep. On the street he would wake as soon as someone passed him, or if there were a sudden noise. Survival tactics, really. That’s what they were, and they did help, he thinks. He never got mugged or beaten. But here his habits are interfering with his ability to sleep.

After a while of remaining awake in bed, Zach decides to go to the kitchen to get himself a drink. Just some water. He returns to bed and tries to sleep but really ends up more exhausted then before.

* * *

Zach loses his nerve early in the morning. He’s tired and cranky and so stressed out he’s not in the right frame of mind when he packs up his stuff. He’s worried. Worried that this will be taken from him as well as everything eventually is. So before he can be cruelly denied some of the basic necessities of life, he decides to leave. One night is good enough, but he can make it on his own.

He packs up his stuff and takes off Tom’s clothes to dress into his own. He heads downstairs as quietly as he can, heading for the front door. He’s pulled on his shoes and reaching out for the handle when he’s stopped.

“Good morning.”

Zach turns. Chris is standing at the other end of the front hall near the kitchen. He’s dressed up for work, Zach assumes, holding a cup of coffee.

“Where are you headed?” Chris asks. He has to notice the bags and guitar case, Zach thinks. He looks like he’s running away.

“Out,” Zach says. Defaulting to vague answers is never a good idea.

Chris looks down. He knows the truth. “Listen. I know we don’t know anything about each other, and this situation is a little weird. But I really do mean it when you can stay. For however long you need to. I think Tom would like you to stay for a while. He doesn’t have many friends besides us, and I think he’s happy he’s found you. He wants to help you, Zach. At least let him try. You’re welcome to stay for however long you need to, but it’s up to you.”

* * *

Zach lets himself believe that this will work out and lets himself relax in the house. He tries not to be a burden and offers to help out with chores: dishes, cleaning, looking after the kids. Elsa is a stay at home mom, so Zach offers his help where he can. Chris works full time during the weekdays, and Tom has shift work irregularly through the week. So sometimes it’s just Zach and Elsa at home, which isn’t actually all that awkward. She’s very nice and doesn’t ask any questions, probably picking up on Zach’s unease.

During the day, Zach can manage, but at night he lies awake. His mind won’t shut off. Usually he has to get up and walk around the house before he can even think about trying to sleep again. One night he decides on a whim that he should try sleeping elsewhere. The living room couch is out because he doesn’t want to be caught sleeping there. The basement is the only other place to sleep. He knows Tom is down there, but it would be less awkward with him walking in on Zach than the Hemsworths.

He heads down the basement and is pleased to see some seating down there. He takes the couch and uses the blanket set over the top to cover himself. He sleeps and doesn’t wake until the morning when Tom is standing over him.

“Oh,” Zach says, stretching his legs. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” Tom says. “Trouble sleeping?”

Zach yawns. “A bit. Couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d come down here and give the couch a shot.”

“And?”

“Well, I’m not sleepy anymore.”

Tom grins. “That’s good. Breakfast?”

Tom doesn’t have to work that day, so it gives Elsa the chance to go out and run some errands. Zach looks after the house and kids with Tom. The little girl, India, is a little wary of the stranger in her house. She sticks close to Tom whenever Zach is in the room. The twins, Tristan and Sasha, are easy to entertain for the most part. But they’ve discovered the ability of walking, and will use their legs to their advantage. Running around, laughing when Zach has to chase them around the living room.

Later in the day, Tom offers a solution to Zach’s insomnia.

“You can stay with me if you want,” he says. “If that will make it better.”

“What do you mean? Like the two of us in the same bed?”

Tom nods. “I thought it might make you feel safer if there were someone you knew sleeping beside you.”

It’s a good idea. They’ve shared a bed before, although, under different circumstances. But there was comfort in those moments, the few times they were allowed to lay side by side when their owners watched another erotic display. Zach has nothing to lose at this point, so they might as well give this a shot.

* * *

Tom’s room is bigger than the spare bedroom upstairs. It’s his own private space. There’s a bed, a desk, a dresser with a small TV set on top, and a closet. There are pictures hung up on the wall, and on the dresser is a row of books. The bed is large enough to hold the both of them comfortably.

They settle down for the night together. Tom spends some of his time reading while Zach lies on his side and gets used to the feeling of another beside him. Eventually Tom settles down and turns off the lamp, setting his book aside.

“Goodnight,” he says.

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

It takes a while for the buzz in Zach’s mind to quiet down, but he gets to that point where he’s drifting off. Tom is breathing softly behind him: deep, steady, quietly. It’s peaceful. It’s rhythmic. Zach doesn’t know where he’s going with this thought anymore.

But he does wake sometime in the night in a different position. He wakes up in a tangle of limbs and sheets. Zach and Tom have unconsciously drifted towards each other, seeking comfort in the other’s embrace like they used to. Zach isn’t gay. He knows that. He finds pleasure (or used to) in women. There’s nothing there about guys that turns him on. The only thing he can admit is that he’s okay with Tom embracing him and touching him in a gentle way. It’s the only touch he can stand. He finds it comforts him in a way he hasn’t felt in years. So he lets himself be held as warm puffs of air hit his face from the still sleeping Tom.

* * *

During another night, the small TV in Tom’s room is showing _Whose Line is it Anyway?_ tonight. Zach doesn’t know how it happened, but his head is resting on Tom’s lap. Tom is carding his fingers through Zach’s hair as he sits up against the bedframe. It’s late at night. Everyone else is in bed. This is nice. Zach likes this. It makes the crushing despair he feels that much lighter and easier to handle.

“Does that feel good?” Tom asks.

Zach mumbles and closes his eyes. “Don’t stop.”

“Feeling better?”

“Mm.”

Tom chuckles and continues to stroke his hair.

Zach dozes a little. He wakes a little when Tom moves out from under him to turn off the lights, TV, and get ready for bed. He returns momentarily and slips into bed beside Zach.

“Goodnight, Zach.”

“Hnnn.”

* * *

Zach has dreams every now and then. He dreams about the time before and the short time after. There are always hands on him, and he can never tell who they belong to. He’s always restrained in these dreams. He can never move. He can never break free.

Then he feels one soft hand on his arm. While he still flinches, he doesn’t try to break away. The touch seems oddly familiar.

“Zach, I think you’re dreaming.”

The dream isn’t as gripping anymore, but he still can’t forget those phantom touches.

Tom touches his forehead. “God, Zach, you’re burning up. Hang on.”

The warmth at his back departs. The ceiling fan is turned on. Tom pulls back the blankets and strips Zach of his clothes until he’s left in just his briefs. Tom crawls back onto the bed and situates himself behind Zach. He pulls the other man close and runs his hands down his arm.

“Is this okay?” Tom asks.

“Yeah,” Zach says. “It’s fine. Thanks.”

The stroking continues. Zach turns and burrows into Tom’s side. The ceiling fan cools his overheated skin and being wrapped up in Tom’s arms gives him security.

“Get some sleep, Zach,” Tom says. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

Zach’s first owner was Mistress Kate. He didn’t know what to expect at first. He didn’t even know what she saw in him when she decided to buy him. He was thin and twitchy from the detox and training. When she took him to her home, she started grooming him: haircut, new clothes, a diet, and workout routine. He started to fill out, gain muscle. It was months before she started training him to meet her needs.

It was starling at first to realize what Mistress Kate really wanted from him. He couldn’t object to anything. He just had to take it like the good slave he was. He was conditioned to be a bed slave, to please Mistress Kate with his hands, his tongue. She took what she wanted from him and left him with nothing. He existed for her and her alone. He was for her pleasure and sometimes shared with others.

Mistress Kate was beautiful. That was something he couldn’t deny. She did start gently with him, which he was always grateful for. But then she moved into the more adventurous bedroom activities, and he found himself in an unfamiliar world.

Bondage. Dominance. Submission. He was forced into a role he knew nothing about and was expected to accept it without question. So Zach stuck through it, endured the crop, the ties, the handcuffs, the gags, the denial of pleasure, all so he could please his Mistress.

And then three years later, he was sold. Mistress Kate got tired of him and wanted something new to play with. And then he was _expected_ to move on as if nothing happened. He was _expected_ to transition into a different role with ease. He was _expected_ to forget about the past and focus on his new owner. But it was something he could never forget about.

It ruined him. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. He lost something very important to him, and he didn’t know if he would ever get it back.

He lost his identity.

* * *

“How does it work between the three of you?” Zach asks one night. “Obviously you’re part of this family, but what does that make you?”

Tom blushes and looks down. “Well, when I came to them, we never expected it to turn out like it did. We all thought that I wanted to go back home after, once I came into some money, but really I wanted to stay here with them, and they wanted me to stay.”

“So you’re . . .”

“Yeah. It’s the three of us. Together. I love them both in different but equal ways.”

“Oh.” That leaves Zach with a lot of questions. He wants to know more, wants to know if it’s as normal as it was before or if things have changed. He just wants to know what it’s like. Considering their histories, he wants to know how the dynamics work, but feels too shy to ask such personal questions.

“I know you have questions,” Tom says. “What do you want to know?”

Zach shrugs. “It might be too personal.”

“It’s fine. Really.”

“Okay. Well, what’s it like?”

“You mean, between the three of us?”

“No, I mean when it comes to showing your love for each other, how do you manage it?”

Tom is quiet for a long time. “It’s not easy,” he says. “There are some things I just can’t do. I want to be close to them physically, give myself over to them, but I don’t think I can have a normal, intimate relationship again. I was trained to make my owner feel good and leave my own pleasures as an afterthought. I don’t think I can get over that way of thinking.”

Zach understands. He was conditioned to respond to pain. After that he began to avoid touching people, flinching whenever something brushed past him. Tom must be experiencing something like that as well. And if he’s in a committed relationship with two other people, then it must be really difficult to be able to show how much he cares.

“At least you have them to take care of you though, and they don’t have any expectations from you,” Zach says.

“Yeah, but I still wish I could have that part back in a relationship. To be able to love and be loved equally.”

“I do, too,” Zach says, huddling under the blanket after a while. Tom shuffles down beside him.

They’re never going to be the same. They’re never going to have normal relations with others or have equal standings or jobs. Everything will be affected by their time as slaves. It hurts, knowing this, but there’s nothing they can do to ease it. They just have to adapt and move on. Otherwise they’ll never heal and waste away until there’s nothing left.

But after realizing that they’ve been affected in the same way as their time as slaves, Zach realizes that they can help each other. At least in this one aspect. They can help each other overcome their fears of intimacy. They can go at their own pace and not be pressured to do something they’re uncomfortable with.

Zach suggests the idea to Tom one night. Tom lies back and looks up at the ceiling before answering.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “I would like that.”

They start slowly. They’ll heal together, reclaim their bodies from the past and make them their own. For too long they have been subject to the whims of their masters. Now it’s time they make their bodies their own. For once they have control.

For the first three times that they do this, everything is strictly above the belt. Tom knows how skittish Zach is and Zach knows how uncomfortable Tom gets as soon as his t-shirt is lifted up a fraction of an inch. Zach has no problems with taking off his shirt. He’s comfortable in his own skin. His problem, like Tom’s, is touching and what will come after the touching.

They start from the top. Tom straddles Zachary as they sit up against the headboard of the bed. They kiss at first, Zach’s hands on Tom’s waist and Tom’s hands on Zach’s face. It’s close lipped at first, simple re-familiarization of the action. It’s nice. It’s good. They’re good.

They move a little more the easier it gets. They begin to let their hands drift. Tom takes to kissing Zach on the side of the neck. Zach lets his hands drift under Tom’s shirt. Tom’s muscles quiver, but he’s not pulling back. He’s moving into Zach’s touch. They have a rule. A leftover from sex slave training because it’s a good system. They’ll use the colour system of green, yellow, red: good, slow down, stop. And then there is the all mighty safe word for those moments when it becomes overwhelming.

Tom gets to Zach’s ear and grazes his teeth against the lobe. Zach shivers and makes a noise, which prompts Tom to pull away and look at him in concern.

“You okay?” he asks. “We can stop.”

But Zach shakes his head. “I actually kind of liked it.”

Tom smiles and gets right back to it.

Their first reclamation session is a success. But they aren’t all so nice.

The first time Tom freaks out is when Zach begins to tug at the bottom of his t-shirt and starts to lift it. That’s when Tom breaks away and curls in on himself. He wraps his arms protectively around his torso. He doesn’t say anything, and Zach immediately knows something is wrong.

Zach stops. “Tom,” he says. “Hey, come back to me.”

“I’m here,” he says, refusing to look up. “I’m just . . .”

“Do you want to stop?”

Tom shakes his head.

“I need a clear answer,” Zach says. “A colour.”

“Umm, yellow?”

“You sure?”

Tom nods. No hesitation. Good.

So Zach takes Tom up in his arms and slowly flips them until Tom is lying on his back. He kisses Tom and moves lower. He won’t try to remove Tom’s shirt. Not yet. They’re not there yet. So he simply moves down until he’s level with Tom’s stomach. Then he pushes the shirt up a bit, revealing Tom’s flat stomach. He lets his fingers skim over, lets them wander. He plants his lips on the smooth, cool skin. Tom shifts beneath him, not to push away but to feel.

He gets to push the t-shirt half way up before they decide to call it a night.

“Thank you,” Tom says. “I don’t know how I would be able to do this without you.”

“Have you told them? About this?”

“Well, I’ve told them what I fear and what my own limitations are. They know I want to give myself over. They’re not pressuring me, but I just didn’t know how to approach them because—”

“Because they wouldn’t understand.”

“Yeah.” Tom sighs and shifts beside him. “It’s very tiresome sometimes.”

Zach looks over at him. He’s lying on his side, back to Zach. Zach moves over, hesitating a moment before laying his hand gently on his waist, nose gently touching Tom’s shirt. Tom is stiff at first, then he shifts back until they fit together snuggly. Tom slowly relaxes in his arms. Zach relaxes as well.

It’s a slow pace, but they’ll do this together.

* * *

They move on. Slowly. Always slowly. They now have time to do what they want. They have control over the situation, which is good.

All of it is good.

They manage to start shedding clothes, removing layers of doubt and self-consciousness with them. They start moving together, touching each other where before they could not. There is no hesitation this time. Only anticipation.

When it comes to an end, Tom lies shivering and Zach is breathless. They don’t speak. They simply breathe and revel in the feelings of pleasure. Tom turns onto his side and snuggles up close to Zach’s side. They don’t bother cleaning up. They’ll leave that for the morning. Right now both just want to lie in the other’s embrace and soak up the much missed intimacy.

* * *

After overcoming their fears of intimacy and reclaiming their bodies, Zach has one more thing to fix. He realizes that he needs to go back to the halfway house. He’s starting to put his life back on track, so why stop here? He can’t go back on the street. He can’t live hand to mouth anymore. The guitar is nice, but Zach knows he has to go back and give the halfway house another try. Surely, now he’ll be able to last more than four months.

Another boost to his self-confidence is Tom. With him Zach is able to talk about his fears and anxieties because Tom understands. Tom has been in that position.

Tom says, “You should call the house. Or I can, if want, to see if they’ll take you back.”

“That’d be great,” Zach says. “If you could call for me.” Zach can’t call because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s rejected. He wouldn’t be able to live with the rejection, and that really scares him.

Tom does call the halfway house one morning. Zach sits by in the kitchen, trying not to let his hopes get too high. The halfway house is really his only chance in getting anywhere in life, and he may have screwed himself over by leaving in the first place.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He’s so fucking stupid sometimes.

“You can take him?” Tom says suddenly. “So it doesn’t really affect him since he left?”

Zach looks up from the table.

“Oh, that is great. Yeah, he’s meaning to come back now and get back in the program.” After a moment of silence, Tom pulls away from the phone to ask Zach a quick question. “They say you can come over tomorrow if you’d like.” Zach nods, and Tom goes back to the phone. “Yes, that sounds good. We’ll be there tomorrow in the afternoon sometime. Yes, thank you. Take care. Bye.”

Tom sets down the phone and crosses the kitchen to sit across from Zach. “Sounds like you’re going back,” he says.

“Guess so,” Zach says.

* * *

He stayed with the Hemsworths for two months. He lived on the street for six months. It’s been eight months since he was last at the halfway house. With his previous four months at the halfway house, it means he’s been free for about a year now. A year since he last had to address to people as ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ or ‘master’ or ‘mistress.’ It’s been a year since he last had to follow an order, or be part of the lowest tier in the hierarchy of society. It’s been a very hard journey, an uphill battle all the way. But he feels like the worst is over. He certainly ended up at the bottom of the pit, so logically he can only go up from here.

He thanks the Hemsworths for letting him stay for so long, and they shrug it off, saying it was no problem. He gets a good night’s sleep glued to Tom’s side. Breakfast is filling, and Tom doesn’t have to work, so it’s going to be a good last day. He packs up his stuff when it’s time to go and says goodbye to the kids. India waves him goodbye, but is too shy to give him a goodbye hug when he bends down at her level. She just smiles and runs away to hide behind Elsa’s legs.

The drive is short, quiet. Tom parks the car where he’s able and turns off the engine. Zach is back at the halfway house where he started.

“Want me to come in with you?” Tom asks.

Zach shakes his head. “I think I’ll be okay.”

Tom nods. “That’s good. Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

“For now,” Zach says, because he doesn’t want this to be goodbye forever.

Tom smiles. “For now.”

They hug briefly and awkwardly in the cramped space of the car. Zach gets his stuff out of the backseat of the car and walks into the halfway house. He walks right up to the front counter in the lobby. Before he can even talk to the employee standing by the counter, he’s approached by Chris, Chris Evans.

“Zach!” he says. “Hey! It’s so good to see you.”

Chris offers Zach a warm hug, which he accepts and returns. “Yeah. It’s good to be back,” Zach admits. It is, because now he feels prepared for what is to come. He feels ready to get his life back on track instead of remaining stuck in the past.

“I’m glad to see you’re all right,” Chris says, all serious. “I was worried about you when I found out you left.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Zach says. “I just needed time to collect myself.”

Chris nods. “I understand. But if you ever need a change in pace, just come talk to me and we’ll figure something out that works for you, okay?”

Zach nods. Now that he knows what he’s getting himself into, he doesn’t feel as overwhelmed as before.

Chris gets him set up in another room all over again. He explains that there’s a job opening in a restaurant for cleaning dishes and if Zach is up for it. Zach accepts. Cleaning dishes behind the scenes sounds like a good way to get started.

Zach sets himself up in his new room, emptying his bag of clean clothing, some of it new from Tom. He sets up his guitar and opens it to find a music book inside. There’s a sticky note on top of it.

_Thought you might want some more variety than the old classics._

_\--Tom_

Zach opens the book and skims through the pages of chords he can learn in his spare time. He picks up his guitar and sits back on his bed, leaning against the wall. He decides to run through some scales first to warm up his fingers.

Guitar playing will be a nice hobby for him, he thinks. It’ll give him something to do when he isn’t working and he’s struggling with himself. He still has his doubts; always will with how his life has been. But as long as he can remember all the things he has done and conquered, he knows that he can make it through this.

**Author's Note:**

> And there we are! Part 2 is done. Part 3 is not even started and that part will focus on Liam Hemsworth. I'll get started on it eventually, so give me a few months and we shall meet each other again. 
> 
> Take care!


End file.
